Page:Pocahontas and Other Poems (NY).pdf/110



silence, pride! What dost thou here, With the frail sons of clay? How darest thou in God's courts appear, Where contrite spirits pray?

Keep silence, wild and vexing care! Six measured days are thine, Thy seed to sow, thy chaff to share, Steal not the day divine.

Keep silence, sorrow! Faith can tell With what sublime intent Thou to the bosom's inmost cell By Heaven's right hand wert sent.

Keep silence, avarice! With thy hoard So boasted, yet so base, Think'st thou the money-changer's board Hath here a fitting place?

Keep silence, vain and worldly joy, Foam on, time's tossing wave! Why lure him with a treacherous toy Who trembles o'er the grave?